Drunkshoe's Adventure
by Batty Rose
Summary: Miles Edgeworth and Dick Gumshoe attend a party at which Gumshoe gets drunk. It's up to our magenta-clad hero to help him get home safely. But what will become of Larry, who must face his tortured past alone? Spoiler alert: it's not about Larry.


**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!**

* * *

Late one night, Phoenix Wright and the gang (the members of which constantly changed) held their traditional celebratory drinks and/or dinner night following yet another successful trial. Even his opponents, Miles Edgeworth and Dick Gumshoe, were present, as they typically were of late. Since they had moved on to the "drinks" part of the night, Maya and Pearl Fey had gone home, leaving a tipsy crew consisting of Phoenix, Edgeworth, Gumshoe, Franziska von Karma (because she 'wanted to keep an eye on that scruffy idiot' or whatever), and Larry Butz, who was somehow the key witness for the sixth consecutive time.

"A toast!" Phoenix tittered as he raised his whiskey glass and pointed one finger in the direction his voice carried (which he always did when yelling, it turns out). "To me winning another case!"

A few people mumbled. Phoenix frowned at the lack of enthusiasm.

"Also, drinks are on me!" he added.

The bar burst into cheers and applause, to which the attorney clumsily bowed.

"That idiot," muttered Edgeworth. "He only got lucky."

"I know!" Gumshoe boomed in reply. "Heck, if _you_ were on the case, we woulda won for sure, sure. I mean, sir. We woulda won for sir, sure. No, wait." He took a swig of his beer. "Aw, who cares? Free drinks!" Another cheer erupted through the room.

Edgeworth rolled his eyes and whispered, "Such a moron."

"Yoo-hoo! Larryyy~" Franziska called out. "Where aaaaaare yooou?" He was sobbing in the corner about something, but Franziska didn't notice.

"Her, too?" The prosecutor sighed and massaged his forehead. "Tell me something, Gumshoe. Why do people enjoy the drunken company of others?"

"Um..." The detective paused and blinked. "Because they're drunk too, sure?"

"Wrong word."

"Right! Sir!" He snapped to attention.

"At ease."

Gumshoe relaxed. "Hey. Why don't _you_ have a drink, sir?"

"Because I pride myself on my public image," replied Edgeworth coolly. He traced his finger along the edge of his glass of water. "I rather wish all of you did as well."

"Uh. Good point, sir."

As the night continued, so did the drinking, and the collective alcohol intake of the group rose to uncomfortable levels. Almost everybody wound up going home after an embarrassing encounter between Larry and a row of bar stools, and the prosecutor and his sidekick followed suit. The former rolled his eyes again as he kept a steady arm around the latter.

"Thanks," Gumshoe slurred. "You're a real pal."

"I'm just doing my duty as a good samaritan," said Edgeworth. "Had you stayed longer, your smell would have put that bar out of business."

"Haaa! That's funny."

"I wasn't joking."

"Huh? Y-you weren't?" Gumshoe strained to understand, making his balance even worse. Edgeworth barely managed to pull him back after he stumbled too far to the side.

"Careful!" he scolded. "You'll fall off the sidewalk."

"Oh. Sorry." They continued in silence for another block. "Hhhey, Sir?"

Edgeworth sighed. "What is it?"

"Can..." The detective concentrated on speaking as slowly and clearly as he could. "Can I... call you Edgeworth?"

"... I suppose."

Gumshoe smiled. "R-really? Then, can I call you Miles?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh." He looked dejected for a second, but then snapped back into his grin. "Hey, Edgeworth!"

"What _now?_"

"That's it." He pointed in the general direction of an apartment building that looked like it was about to fall apart. "That's my place."

"Oh." Edgeworth wrinkled his nose. True, he'd heard of Gumshoe's... unfortunate inability to earn more than minimum wage, but this place was just awful_._ He watched as the poor guy fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the front door but not even _almost_ hitting his target. He sighed. "Give me the keys."

Gumshoe sulked and handed them over. Edgeworth watched him from the corner of his eye while thumbing through the keys, worried that the oaf might manage to injure himself by simply standing still. It could happen, he figured. The guy was drunk, after all. Then the door clicked open. Gumshoe's eyes lit up. "Thanks, pal! I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Not so fast," corrected Edgeworth, putting his arm around the big guy again. "I'm not leaving until you're in your apartment. You'll probably kill yourself on those stairs."

"Aaaahh, you're always so _w-worried_." But Gumshoe didn't object to the help. He had a giant, goofy smile on his face the whole time they climbed the stairs. By the time they reached the top, Edgeworth was huffing and grabbing his knees to stay standing.

"Please tell me this is your floor," he wheezed.

Gumshoe stumbled to a door just a couple feet away and reached for his pocket. His face fell with confusion as he started searching his gigantic coat's infinite supply of pockets.

Edgeworth sighed and said, "I still have the keys." Then he proceeded to unlock the door. "Here you go," he dropped the keys in Gumshoe's hand. "Now, are you sure you'll be al-"

Suddenly, his air supply was cut off due to a serious case of bear hug. "Oof! Gumshoe! Get off of me!"

The detective only responded by squeezing him tighter. "I love you, pal!" he sobbed. "I really do."

Too surprised and constricted to react, Edgeworth stood completely still. Several uncomfortable seconds later, Gumshoe's crying began to calm down. The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Hey. Gumshoe."

"Yessir?"

"Get off of me."

"R-right!" He let go so fast, he nearly knocked Edgeworth over. "Sorry!" he hiccuped.

"You're forgiven." The smaller guy steadied himself and knocked some dust from his sleeves. "Now go sleep this off. I want you fully recovered when you're back on duty tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" Gumshoe paused as if he was deciding something. Then, very quickly and almost as clumsily, he leaned forward and planted a scratchy kiss on Edgeworth's cheek. The latter stiffened in alarm as the former beamed, shouted, "G'night!" and bolted inside.

It took a few minutes for Edgeworth to compose himself enough to leave.

_He was just drunk, _he told himself. _Just act like it never happened._

And yet, as he walked home, he pondered the kiss some more. In its own stupid, clumsy, ridiculous way, that oaf's affection was... pleasant. Endearing, even. Edgeworth smiled.

_Maybe I like this drink night tradition after all._

_Fin_


End file.
